


Please Forgive Me

by amy_vic



Category: NCIS
Genre: Alternate Canon, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-03-09
Updated: 2010-03-09
Packaged: 2017-10-07 20:03:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 591
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/68746
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amy_vic/pseuds/amy_vic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This follows the events of <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/68744">Promises</a>, but stands well enough on its own.</p>
    </blockquote>





	Please Forgive Me

**Author's Note:**

> This follows the events of [Promises](http://archiveofourown.org/works/68744), but stands well enough on its own.

The weekend he left, she went through the apartment, removing anything of his that was left behind. It's her way of declaring her independence, if only to herself the next morning.

The bathroom has been scrubbed down, she's re-arranged the living room furniture, and three new sets of sheets are folded neatly in the linen closet.

It's a warm, sunny day, and Kate has just finished folding some laundry (and her second glass of wine), when she notices the black shoebox peeking out from under a pile of sweaters in the closet.

If you didn't know any better, you'd think there were shoes in the box, set aside for some important occasion. Or, considering her profession, perhaps a back-up gun. (Of course, Kate only leaves her weapons in locked steel cases; too many times she's seen children gain access to their parents' shoeboxes, with deadly results.)

Kate doesn't have any idea of what the box contains. It doesn't belong to her, so she figures that he must have had a very good reason for leaving it behind.

She frees the box from its cashmere restraints and sits on the edge of their bed (_no-it's all hers now_), and holds it in her lap. There aren't any markings on it, not even an indication of the shoes that lived in it first.

She flips through most of the contents quickly; some worn photographs, beginning to curl at the edges, and a few that are more recent. Kate gives these only a cursory glance; she's in the majority of the newer pictures (_no one can ever see these_, she reminds herself). The papers are what hold her attention for the longest time. She can't make out the words (it's written in Hebrew; at least, she thinks it is), but by the heavy, expensive feel of the paper, she knows exactly what she's holding in her hands.

She realizes the truth, then. He never would have left these things with her if he didn't love her, and trust her with his life. He would want to make sure she was safe and taken care of, if something ever happened to him. She's the only person he can trust to assume control of his affairs.

If he gets killed, Kate thinks, I'm the one he wants picking out his coffin. A slightly morbid thought, certainly, but in their lines of work, it's comforting, in a way. A safety net of sorts.

Duty to his job (his homeland) is was the only thing causing him to walk out the door.

Kate pours herself another glass of wine, and begins making dinner. She tries not to read anything into the fact that she accidentally pulls two plates from the cupboard. Force of habit, she tells herself.  
  
  
~~~~~  
  
Three days after they bumped into each other outside of a coffee shop, he returned to his hotel room to find a message waiting for him. He eyes the note suspiciously, because no one is supposed to know where he is, let alone be able to contact him by slipping notes under his hotel room door.

When he finally does accept that it is only a sheet of paper (and cannot explode in his face), he unfolds it. The message is short, and he recognizes the handwriting at once. It causes his chest to tighten, just for a moment, and then he is pulling his cell phone from his jacket. He barely has time to say her name before she's jumping in and speaking over him.

"I'm so sorry. Come home."


End file.
